Changeable
by Evil Shall Giggle
Summary: Janeway finds herself in a new and unexpected situation... one that's not entirely unwelcome. What would YOU do if your diary could change the universe? JC
1. Chapter 1

"One bowl of coffee ice cream. No, belay that. Two bowls of coffee ice cream."

The replicator beeped obligingly and Janeway tapped an impatient foot as the food materialized before her, Starfleet-issue spoons and all. She took one bowl in each hand and eased herself down onto her couch with a groan, setting one aside and starting on the other. Kicking off her boots, she pulled the interface terminal to her with her foot and tapped two of the buttons with a toe. It beeped at her, and its familiar voice informed her that it was awaiting her command.

"Captain's personal log, stardate 50593.8," she began, and paused. How to even _begin_ to summarize this day? Logic would dictate to begin at the beginning. She rubbed her forehead. Tuvok was wearing off on her just a little too much. "Today… has not been the best one this week." Now _that_ was definitely taking the cake for 'Best Understatement of the Year'. "It started off pleasantly enough, I admit…"

_Janeway strode onto the bridge, a slight smile on her lips. Waking up this morning in the lovely, dappled turquoise glow of the nebula outside had been enough to convince her that today would be a decidedly pleasant day. She nodded to Tuvok and Tom, gave Harry a little wave, acknowledged both ensigns at __the science stations, and plunked herself into her chair. Chakotay turned to her, looking amused._

"_You're in a good mood," he remarked._

_She ran her hands along the armrests of her chair. "Why shouldn't I be? I woke up this morning and looked out my window and thought for one brief—" she shot a teasing look at her security officer "—_illogical_ moment that I was underwater. Mr. Paris, can we have the nebula onscreen, please?"_

"_Yes, ma'am," he said, hitting a few controls. The sunlight-streaked, gently swaying pockets of gas tinged the bridge vaguely blue, and Janeway smiled again, turning her attention back to Chakotay, who nodded his approval._

"_It certainly is quite something," he agreed, "but I'm not sure thinking that I was underwater would be enough to put me in as good a mood as yours."_

"_I love swimming," she told him. "I used to scuba dive with my friends, explore old caves. It was always so inspiring when you'd come around a corner and see the sunlight streaming down in the water where before there was only darkness…"_

"_I can imagine," he said, resting his elbow on the __console between them and leaning closer. "When I was young, my sister and I used to swim in the lake near our village. I would lie on the bottom and look up, watching the sun through the water." He chuckled, "Of course, I always got water up my nose, but until that happened I enjoyed myself."_

_Janeway grinned, about to reply, when the ship pitched forward, knocking her halfway out of her chair. Regaining her seat, she twisted around. "Mr. Tuvok, report!"_

"_It appears that our engines ignited a small, densely packed area of gas," he informed her. "Shields are holding."_

"_Harry," she said, "scan for more of those pockets."_

"_I'm picking up a few, Captain," he replied, tapping away at his consol._

"_I can plot a course around them," volunteered Tom._

"_Go ahead, Lieutenant," she nodded._

_The __'watery' world on the viewscreen wheeled nauseatingly as Tom pulled the ship about. Janeway cringed slightly and blinked hard to settle her protesting stomach, but even once they were again on a steady, uneventful course, the bridge remained quiet, the playful atmosphere lost. _

_She stood. "I'll be in my ready__ room. Commander, you have the bridge."_

"Nothing else happened until lunch," she told the small computer, gazing out the window at the nebula. Its loveliness did little to cheer her up anymore, not after everything that had happened earlier that day. "Neelix took it upon himself to bring me some soup and he was telling me about how he got the spices for it…"

"_The Rairi are a_ very_ private race, Captain," he stressed, pacing agitatedly as Janeway tentatively sipped her full spoon. "They absolutely _refuse_ to deal with outsiders! But luckily, I'd met a member of their species a couple of years before while I was doing business on an asteroid trading outpost—"_

"_This is good," she remarked with surprising sincerity, holding up a hand to cut off his long explanation, "Thank you, Neelix. It was very thoughtful of you to bring it up to me."_

"_You are very welcome, Captain," he assured her, bouncing slightly on his toes, "Remember, anytime you feel the slightest bit hungry, you just give me a call and I will be there before you could say leola root." And, with that, he was out the door and out of sight. She let her breath out with a small whoosh and smiled at his exuberance, then turned her attention back to the bowl of soup before her. It was a spiced cream of some kind, with… were those mushrooms?_

_Hadn't Chakotay once told her that mushroom soup was his all__-time favourite food? "Janeway to Commander Chakotay."_

"Chakotay here, Captain."

"_Please report to the ready room."_

_A moment later, the door hissed open and Chakotay stepped through it. _

"_Captain?" he questioned, hands folded behind his back._

_She held up the bowl. "Neelix's equivalent of cream of mushroom soup. Want some?"_

"_Sure," he said, crossing the room in a few long strides to where she sat on her couch. She patted the seat beside her and he sat, peering with curiosity at the bowl she held._

"_Here," she said, handing it to him and standing, "I'll replicate you another spoon." She told the computer what she wanted and it materialized with a soft whir, and then, carrying the new spoon, she returned to the sofa and handed it to Chakotay._

"_It's actually pretty good," she commented, taking a spoonful for herself._

_He tried a bit, looking slightly dubious, but his face quickly changed to surprise. "It is," he agreed, taking a second scoop, then looked up at her guiltily, "Am I eating your lunch, Kathryn?"_

_She laughed, "Yes, but really, I've never been much of a fan of mushr—"_

_The ship lurched suddenly, cutting her off and knocking the bowl of soup out of her hands. She gave a small cry of surprise and pain as the hot liquid sloshed across her lap, stinging at her legs as it soaked through the fabric of her pants, but was on her feet and out the ready room door nonetheless, Chakotay trailing half a step behind._

"_Report!" she barked to Tuvok, wiping her hands uselessly on her uniform to get the soup off them. "I thought you told me you were plotting a course around those pockets of gas, Mr. Paris."_

"_He was," replied Tuvok calmly, "It appears that a conduit ruptured near the starboard nacelle. Minor damage. Repair teams on the way."_

"_Any sign of the cause?" Janeway asked, frowning. Conduits didn't just rupture by themselves._

"_Negative," said Harry, "It may have just overloaded. I don't think Engineering's had time yet to finish the repairs to the conduits after that accident last week. The undamaged ones have had to bear extra loads for a while now. It may have been too much."_

_She nodded and glanced around the bridge. Harry looked slightly ruffled, Tuvok looked Vulcan, and Tom was looking right back at her. "Captain," he began questioningly, gesturing at the large greyish patch covering her thighs and midriff, "if you don't mind me asking, what _is_ that?"_

"_That," she replied crisply, heading back to the ready room, "was my lunch. Chakotay, I owe you another bowl. Care to join me?"_

_They settled back onto the couch, Chakotay holding a new bowl of soup and Janeway a damp cloth, sponging herself off. Once she'd finished, she recycled the cloth and ordered a cup of coffee, then joined her first officer under the wide __view port. He was already halfway through his meal, she noted out of the corner of her eye as she looked up at the nebula outside._

_His spoon slowed as he caught her watching him, and he set it down, holding it carefully in his lap. She turned her gaze more directly on him, watching his down turned face and wondering what was wrong. "Not hot enough?" she asked._

"_No, it's fine," he said slowly, poking at a floating fungus absently with his spoon. A long moment later, he looked up at her and smiled wryly. "It's just… the last time I had mushroom soup, Seska made it for me." _

_Janeway felt her brows pull together in__ an emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on. Jealousy that he was still so deeply affected by Seska after so long? Guilt for prompting bad memories?_

_The moment passed__ quickly though and he looked up at her, smiling and saying, "She used stolen ingredients, of course. I had to punish her and everyone involved, myself included."_

"_I'm sorry to bring this up, Chakotay," Janeway offered, putting a hand over his._

"_No," he said, still smiling, "Don't apologize. It's just soup."_

Janeway paused in her recording, glancing down at the faint outline of the soup spill on her uniform. Shaking her head, she continued, "About ten minutes later, another conduit blew…"

_Chakotay and Janeway rushed again onto the bridge, again demanding a report._

"_Another conduit just overloaded," Harry told them._

"_I've lost __control of the starboard nacelle," Tom reported._

"_All stop," Janeway ordered, sinking into her chair. "Harry, get double staff on those conduits. Tom, let's stay here until we can get both nacelles operating smoothly. We should—"_

_The ship rocked yet again, tossing Ensign Wildman at the science station clear out of her seat._

"_Another conduit?" Janeway demanded, twisting around._

_Harry shook his head. "That was one of those dense pockets. We appear to have entered a region where they're more common."_

_Janeway sighed. "Are they drifting?"_

"_Yes, ma'am," said Harry glumly, "And there's another headed straight for us. Impact in three… two… one…"_

_Janeway hit the deck hard, her cheek __meeting carpet and arms splayed out above her head. She pushed herself back up and climbed back into her seat to the sound of Tuvok's damage report._

"_There is a minor rupture in the hull plating on Deck 7," he told her, "Emergency forcefields active. __Repair teams at the nacelle are reporting casualties. Artificial gravity has been lost in the outer section of Deck 7."_

"_Mr. Paris," Janeway said, pushing stray strands of hair back away from her face__ and hoping her voice wasn't as strained as it sounded to her, "Can you get us out of the nebula on one nacelle without causing further damage?"_

"_Shouldn't be a problem—"_

_The ship pitched yet again, knocking Tom against his consol and effectively ending his sentence. Even before he'd __entirely regained his seat, his hands were flying on the controls. "Well," he said, sounding positively gloomy, "it _wouldn't_ have been a problem, had that last pocket not taken out my access to the port nacelle."_

"_Harry," barked Janeway, "Are there anymore of those pockets in the vicinity?"_

"_Just one, Captain," he replied, "and it's headed away from us."_

"_Good," she said and tapped her combadge. "Bridge to Engineering."_

_B'Elanna's hassled-sounding voice came through over the ominous hissing of an unknown problem, "_Torres here, Captain_."_

"_Get as many people as you can spare on fixing the nacelles. What's your estimated timeframe for basic repairs?"_

"Two hours_," came the reply, "_Maybe more, but no less._"_

"_Noted," Janeway said, "Bridge out."_

"Those last two pockets completely nullified all the progress B'Elanna managed to make on the neural gelpacks from the incident last week," Janeway said tiredly, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Total damage recount: two overloaded conduits, both nacelles out of commission, one ruptured EPS conduit, artificial gravity lost on sections of Decks 7 through 9, and three hull fractures."

* * *

The morning dawned just like every other morning dawned in the captain's quarters: to the sound of the computer's flat voice reporting the time. The lights, just as they always did, slowly began to brighten. The only thing out of place this morning was the as yet-unmoving lump in the bed and the fact that there was still auburn hair splayed out over the pillow. The computer had to repeat itself twice at first, also before the lump pushed itself up with a groan and tucked several strands of hair behind its ear. 

"Computer," Janeway said, wiping at her eyes blearily, "Time."

"Time is 0604," replied the computer.

Janeway sighed, slowly climbing the rest of the way out of bed. As she stumbled toward the washroom, she tried half-heartedly to perk herself up with a reminder that she was _never_ so lazy in getting up in the morning. Needless to say as she fell against the cold tile wall of the sonic shower, eyes already half-closed, her efforts had little effect.

Only when the computer pleasantly informed her that she was now ten minutes late for her duty shift did she realize that she was slumped on the floor, back against the wall, the shower still humming away.

With an irritated, well-selected word of expression, she clambered to her feet and hurried off, dashing back to turn off the shower, and scrambled into her uniform, wondering why in all the worlds she'd visited she was so sleepy this morning.

Chakotay regarded her with a somewhat amused expression as she stepped onto the bridge and sat beside him. "Rough night?" he questioned, one eyebrow quirked.

She ran a hand over her dishevelled hair, smoothing down the pieces she'd hadn't quite managed to get to lie flat and stay in her ponytail. "Rough day," she corrected, having had sufficient time in the turbolift to deduce the reason for her tiredness. "Harry, do you have that repair report I asked for?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, bringing over a padd and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, trying to smile without looking like a hung-over Klingon. She thumbed through the report, reading several passages multiple times to absorb them, and then did a quadruple take. "Harry, would you come here for a moment?"

He came over, looking somewhat timid. "Is there a problem, Captain?" he asked, looking down at her over the railing.

"This, here," she said, holding it up so he could see and pointing at the offending passage. "It's a mistake. There were only two hull fractures yesterday."

"Er," said Harry, peering more closely at the report, "No, I don't think so, ma'am. I can check the sensors again if you'd like, but I'm pretty sure there were three."

Janeway stood and followed the ensign to the Ops station, where he hit a few keys and called up the structural damage report from the previous day.

"Here," he said, trailing a finger along a line. "Three hull fractures."

She frowned, gazing at the information. Had she been mistaken? It seemed likely. Shaking her head and giving an apologetic smile, she said, "Sorry, Harry. I guess I must've had a worse day than I thought." Returning to her chair, she looked down at it for a brief moment and changed her mind. "The bridge is yours, Chakotay. I'll be in my ready room."

As she sank into the soft chair behind her desk, she sighed and called up the sensor readings from yesterday, scanning through them to confirm what she'd already seen at Ops. Yes, there is was, three hull fractures, one on Deck 7, one on Deck 6, and one on Deck 8. What had she said in her log? She called it up as well. Yes, it was there, too: 3 hull fractures. But she only remembered two! So, she mused, she was either simply confused and still half asleep, or she was going crazy.

Pensively, she leaned an elbow on the table and then perked up as a bizarre idea occurred to her.

"Computer," she said slowly, "was there anything abnormal recorded on sensors yesterday?"

"Affirmative," replied the computer, "Artificial gravity was lost on Decks 7 through—"

"Belay that," she said, raising a hand slightly. "Was there anything abnormal recorded on sensors in my quarters yesterday?"

"Affirmative," the computer said again and Janeway's curiosity leapt up eagerly. "Two bowls of coffee ice cream were replicated and recycled." Janeway's curiosity fell down hard.

"Nothing abnormal about my log?" she questioned.

"Negative," said the computer.

"Then what could make that possible?" she mused under her breath. "Computer, open Janeway's personal log." There was no harm in trying, right? If she _was_ crazy, testing her idea wasn't going to change it, one way or the other.

"Log open," the computer told her.

She paused, thinking of what she could say. If she was right, she would want to pick something that would be obviously spotted but not harmful in any way. Her eyes fell on the vase of orchids by the couch. "The Vulcan orchids in my ready room that Tuvok gave me ago are blue."

There was a long pause.

"End recording."

The orchids turned blue and Janeway's heart leapt. How was that possible? "Lieutenant Tuvok," she said, hitting her combadge, "please come to the ready room."

The doors slid open and the Vulcan stepped through. "Yes, Captain?" he asked.

"Look," she said, rising and walking over to the orchids, fingering one of the blue petals. "You gave these to me, you remember?"

"Of course, Captain," he replied, seeming unsure of where she was going with this.

"And you remember that they were white?"

He continued to look at her, as if still waiting for her to speak.

"Tuvok?" she questioned.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I said, do you remember that they were white?"

Again, he had no reaction, but continued to wait expectantly. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was he not hearing her?

"Captain, is there something wrong?" he inquired.

Taking a different approach, she picked up the orchids and held it out. "I will dispose of them for you if you want," Tuvok offered uncertainly, taking the pot from her.

"No!" she exclaimed. "No, I like them. But can't you see that they're not the same as the ones you gave me?"

This time, he appeared to have heard her. "Captain, they are the same orchids I gave you six months ago."

She persisted, undeterred, "Tuvok, those were white, not blue."

Was that a sigh she detected from her immovable chief of security? "It is possible that my memory is, in this case, faulty. However, I spent considerable time growing these flowers. I think it highly unlikely that I would remember their colour incorrectly." He handed the orchids back to her. "If there's anything else, Captain?"

"No," she said slowly, looking from him to the orchids and back. "there's nothing else. Return to your post."

As the day moved along, Janeway found herself without another moment to herself, much less enough time to give any serious thought to the Orchid Incident. She was back and forth between the bridge and Engineering to oversee the repairs, and then, just before the end of her shift, had to stop by a crewman's quarters for a scheduled interview. After eating and reviewing B'Elanna's report on the nacelle repairs, she changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed, lying on her back and looking up at the nebula outside.

The shields lit up momentarily, sparkling, and the ship rocked almost imperceptibly as another dense pocket hit it.

She settled down a little further under the covers, glad that Harry and Tuvok had managed to successfully reconfigure the shields to absorb the volatile gas's discharges.

Tuvok.

The orchids.

Her log.

She sat bolt upright and swung her legs off the bed, walking briskly into the living room and swivelling her laptop toward her. "Computer," she said, getting a bee-eep for a response, "Access my personal log, same entry as earlier today."

"Log open," said the computer.

Janeway sat slowly on the couch, thinking. Tuvok hadn't seen anything different about the orchids, and when she'd tried to tell him about her log and how the flowers had turned blue, he hadn't seemed to hear her. If she could do something, change something big, the crew would _have_ to notice. But it would have to be something harmless, nothing that would jeopardize the ship in anyway.

As inspiration struck her, her face lit up. It might not have been logical, but it was certain to attract attention and it definitely would not be harmful. "I am the first officer of _Voyager_, and Chakotay is the captain." She paused, smiling and wondering whether anything would happen. "Computer, end recording."

And the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Janeway's eyes opened to the sight of a familiar ceiling and her spirits sank. It hadn't worked; she hadn't become first officer instead of—

She rolled over and saw an unfamiliar wall. She shot out of the bed and stared around the room. Yes, there were her belongings, but this room… this room had the same structure as Chakotay's, not hers. Could it actually have worked? _Was_ she first officer now?

_Only one way to find out_ she mused, and reached for the small box residing on her bedside table, where she always had and always would keep her pips. With fingers that trembled slightly, she pulled the lid off the box and saw the slender band of shining metal that she'd seen so many times on Chakotay's neck. She turned it over in her hand, marvelling. It was _hers_, but still it wasn't. This wasn't really real, was it?

She turned away, the band clutched in her palm, and headed for the closet. Yes, these were the same uniforms she'd worn everyday for so long: red-shouldered and black-bodied.

"Computer?" she questioned, half to convince herself that it did still exist. The walls beeped comfortingly. "Time?"

"The time is 0620," the computer told her. She stared around. 0620. Normally, she would be leaving for her duty shift in less than ten minutes. If this wasn't real, if it was a dream or something along those lines, there wasn't really any point in going to work, was there?

Well, it _seemed_ to be real, and since pinching her arm hard wasn't waking her up, she might as well treat it as if it were real and try to get the crew to notice what was going on. So, selecting a uniform at random, she headed for the bathroom, thanking the powers that be that she knew her way around Chakotay's quarters.

And, as she gazed with trepidation at the shower, she wished she _didn't_ know that these were Chakotay's quarters.

Feeling like she was invading his privacy as she stepped into the small, metal-walled stall, she closed her eyes and did her best not to imagine him there with her. She groaned and turned the power up, hoping to finish washing and get out of there as soon as possible without letting her thoughts stray _there_ again.

It wasn't his shower anyway, she tried to tell herself. From the way all her things were scattered about the other rooms, it looked as if she'd always lived there. _So_, she thought firmly, _this is my shower. He's never been here._

_Well, _a traitorous voice whispered suggestively, _you don't know that. This is a bit of an alternate universe, isn't it? Who knows what might've happened here?_

Frustrated with herself, she barked at the computer to turn the shower off with far more irritation than was necessary and dressed quickly. The small, old-fashioned clock in the living room told her she had only ten minutes to get herself to the bridge. Hurrying out of her room, she stepped into a turbolift and had to stop herself from looking oddly at and correcting a crewman who called her "Commander". Once on the bridge, she headed, by force of habit, for her chair and seated herself comfortably.

Chakotay's wry voice from behind her made her jump. "Disoriented?" he questioned.

"No," she replied, one eyebrow quirked, and then her eyes fell on the four metal circles on his neck and she jumped out of his chair. "I mean, I suppose I must be," she said, unsettled, as she sank slowly into the proper chair. Chakotay seated himself beside her, calmly looking over a datapad. She struggled to keep herself from staring at him.

"Captain?" spoke up Harry Kim from behind them.

"Yes?" Janeway and Chakotay answered at once. Chakotay stared at her and she cleared her throat. "Sorry."

"Engineering's requesting permission to take the warp core offline for inspection after yesterday's damage."

"Granted," said Chakotay, standing. "Commander, if you would join me in my ready room?" _**My**__ ready room_, she thought indignantly and she followed him off the bridge. As the doors sealed behind them, he turned on her with an amused but concerned smile. "You've always been ambitious, Kathryn, but really. Answering to "captain"? Sitting in my chair?" He sobered and regarded her more seriously, the amusement gone. "Is there something wrong? Am _I_ doing something wrong?"

"No," she said slowly, wondering what she could say that he would hear, "No. I just had a strange dream last night. It's been… hard to get it out of my head."

He led her to the couch, and she took the opportunity to look around. He'd redecorated—or, more correctly, his choices of decoration were different than hers would have been had she been captain and this her room. Instead of flowers, there was a tropical-looking plant, a photograph of an attractive, dark-skinned woman Janeway recognized as Chakotay's sister, Sekaya, and an old-fashioned globe. On the wall was the simple tapestry she'd seen in his quarters in the… the real universe.

"Tell me about it?" he prodded gently.

"I…" she sighed. "I can't." _I should just play sick and go back to my quarters and edit my log. This is ridiculous._ Deciding that that was most certainly the best thing—though perhaps not the best example of upstanding Starfleet morals—to do in the situation, she was about to lean forward and clutch, moaning, at her stomach, but he spoke again and she momentarily lost sight of her plan.

"Well, there's still dinner tonight," he said, offering her a slight smile, "If you want to talk then, I'm always willing to listen. But you know that."

She nodded, smiling. It seemed that not much had changed about their relationship in this altered universe. She wondered who'd been the cause of that. Had it been her, now the second-in-command, who'd cited protocol and told him no, or had _he_ stepped back and told _her_ no?

She supposed she could consult the ship's logs if she was _really_ curious… but she wouldn't be here that long. She would be leaving as soon as she could get back to her quarters. Or, more accurately, she would be returning everything to its normal state as soon as she got back to her quarters. His quarters. His _old_ quarters. Her quarters? There was something about this that reminded her far too strongly of a temporal paradox and she repressed the urge to pull her hair out in frustration.

"You can go," he told her lightly, "just so long as you promise not to be sitting in my chair when I come back out there. Got that, Commander?"

She wasn't entirely sure what to feel at that, but she knew it was supposed to be a joke and so she fell back on laughter. "Yes, sir!" she said and saluted, tone crisp even through her wide grin. She pivoted on one heel and marched back onto the bridge, shaking her head to clear it and making a conscious effort to deviate from her normal path and seat herself in the 'proper' chair. Once there, she gazed around and recalled Chakotay's usual list of duties: crew manifests, department reports, system maintenance logs… she sighed faintly. It was going to be a long shift.

* * *

Before the lift doors could close from admitting the Gamma crew onto the bridge, Janeway had slipped inside, for once free of the need to officially hand over command to the next officer. She watched Chakotay go through the brief ceremony (which had, admittedly, become briefer as the years had passed and routines became as deep-cut as the Great River Canyon on Vulcan) for the few seconds afforded to her before she was sealed into the turbolift with Sam Wildman, and Harry.

"If you don't mind me asking, Commander," Harry spoke up formally, nearly catching Janeway off-guard, "are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," she said, "Of course, Harry, I'm fine."

He looked taken aback, and she felt a strange tug of sadness as she realized that Tom wasn't with them in this universe. _Captain_ Chakotay wouldn't have known Admiral Paris, wouldn't have known what a gifted pilot said admiral's son was, and wouldn't have gone all the way to the penal colony to get him for his new helmsman. Harry, therefore, had failed to evolve, per se, beyond the fresh-faced, eager ensign, into the relaxed, collected, and experienced man she'd come to know.

"Oh, well, good," Harry said a little awkwardly, looking like he was trying not to give Janeway an odd look. "It was just that you seemed a little… unfocu—" She glanced up at him sharply and he wisely held his tongue.

The doors parted and revealed her deck. She bade her two officers goodnight and stepped out, walking the few meters to her door with quick strides and entered, immediately calling up her log.

"Access to captain's personal log is denied," the computer said, and she froze with her hand halfway to her combadge, about to call a repair crew. _Right, _she thought, _**captain's**__ log. I'm not the captain. _

"Computer, open Commander's personal log," she corrected herself. There was an answering beep. "Begin recording. I am, and always have been, _Voyager_'s captain. Commander Chakotay is my second-in-command. End recording."

She looked around the room expectantly and waited. And waited. Why wasn't it working? Last time, it had happened instantaneously; she'd just blacked out right away and woken up here. Why was she still there?

Her combadge interrupted her musings, "Chakotay to Janeway."

"Janeway here," she replied, wondering what he wanted.

"You forgot, didn't you?" He sounded amused.

"Forgot what?" she asked, remembering even as she said it: the dinner. But it was only 1700! Surely that was a little early to eat!

"We have a date," he told her wryly. "If you're busy and rather not come, that's fine. We can postpone until tomorrow."

"No," she said, "I'm not busy. I'll be right over."

As she tapped her combadge to cut the link, she realized why it hadn't worked. It was the captain's log that could change things, not her log. Well, going to Chakotay's quarters would give her the chance she needed to get access to the log, but she'd have to be careful. He wasn't, in all likelihood, about to just let her waltz in and record some random things in his personal log. If she missed this opportunity, who knew when the next one would come? She wasn't willing to spend any longer than necessary in this twisted world; she'd break and enter his quarters if it came to it, but really, she'd prefer not to.

* * *

The doors slid open for her and revealed Chakotay sitting on his couch, reading a padd. He looked up when she entered and smiled at her while she gazed around. How strange… they were _her_ quarters, but without her furniture and belongings they appeared totally foreign.

He stood, the smile gone. "Are you alright?" he asked kindly, taking a gentle hold of her upper arm. "That dream still on your mind?"

She returned her eyes to him and smiled convincingly. "Just a little tired," she told him. Moving away a bit so she could keep searching the room for some way to access his log without him noticing, her eyes fell on his laptop, sitting innocently on top of his coffee table, just like hers always had. If she could just get him out of the room for thirty seconds, she could hack her way through the codes and get back into her own reality. How hard could it be?

* * *

Very hard, it turned out as the evening wore on, and she began to lose hope of settling this then and there. Admittedly, the thought of simply knocking him cold and getting to his log that way had occurred to her several times, but even as she prepared herself to do it, to grab the flower vase, a large padd, or even a dinner plate and bash him over the head with it, she found herself looking into the kind eyes of her long-time friend and her resolve wilted.

After they ate, he recycled the dishes and leftovers and led her to the couch, carrying the half-empty bottle of wine and their glasses. She sat, folding one leg over the other in her usual fashion, and accepted the drink, having decided to let the evening unfold as their weekly dinners often did: work, dinner, drinks, more work, and then light-hearted talk until they retired to their separate quarters.

When Chakotay leaned in to kiss her neck, it seemed as though this evening might be about to stray off the beaten path. She shot away from him as though he were a live wire, dumping her wine all over her leg and the couch in the process.

"Oh!" she cried, standing, "I'm sorry, Chakotay. Let me get a cloth and clean that up."

He only missed half a beat before rising as well and following her to the bathroom. "Don't worry about it," he said, grabbing a cloth from the replicator and wetting it in the sink.

"No, no," she said, a little brusquely, taking the rag from him, "Don't be silly. I made the mess, the least I can do is clean it." She knelt by the couch and scrubbed at the deep red stain, glad of the opportunity to duck her heated face out of his view. She'd have to have a word with whoever said Starfleet captains didn't blush…

At last, once she felt her face had cooled sufficiently, she looked up regretfully. "I think you'll have to replicate some new cushions."

"That's fine," he said, offering her a hand up. "Here, have a seat. No, I won't make you sit on the damp couch." He grinned and gestured to his armchair. "I'll see what I can do about that spot on your uniform."

"Chakotay," she began, "Really, I can replicate new ones—" but she cut herself off as he rubbed the cloth over the stain on her thigh, remembering just _why_, exactly, that stain was there in the first place. She stopped his hand with hers and he looked at her questioningly.

Her mind raced, scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse. It seemed reasonable to assume that in this reality, they had a relationship. That much was certain. But what she was going to do about it was an entirely different matter. She could just give in and let him take her to bed, have this one night and then erase it all tomorrow, and to be completely honest she was tempted. That wasn't what she wanted, though. If they ever did get their chance, she wanted him to remember it. However much it sounded like one of Tom's bad movies, she wanted it to be love, not some incredibly twisted version of a one-night stand.

_But this is your chance to get at that log,_ a small voice told her darkly. _He'll fall asleep afterwards, and you can sneak out and change everything back. He'll never know._

Horrified by her own thoughts, she let go of Chakotay's hand and he cupped her cheek. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded, her mind made up. If she did this, it would be a mistake and she would regret it. She would not let herself give in. It was fundamentally unfair, to both of them. "Do you…" she stumbled briefly over her words, "do you mind if I grab something from my quarters? Some… some reports? I'd like to run over them with you."

"Go ahead." He stood and stepped back to allow her to leave. She struggled to keep her steps calm and measured as she fled into the hall. She darted into her living room and searched frantically for any datapad that she might be able to claim related to him. Ah, at last, here was a stack of crew reports, dilithium usage logs, and the specs from the warp core analysis that the chief engineer had run that morning. She thumbed through them swiftly and decided that, while the majority of them fell solely into her domain of responsibility, there were several abnormalities that could possibly be construed as being noteworthy enough for her to want to talk about them.

She took a moment and glanced in the mirror to make sure that she didn't look as flustered and confused as she felt. Running her hands over her hair quickly and tucking several loose strands back into their clasp, she straightened her uniform and took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Finally, now feeling much more in control of the situation, she strode back to Chakotay's quarters.

When she entered, he was pushing new cushions into place on the couch. She held up the padds and smiled, going over and sitting experimentally. "Very nice," she commented, "Almost exactly the same as the old ones."

"Glad you like them," he chuckled, sinking down next to her. "I spent _hours_ picking them out." Sobering, he peered down at the sizable pile of work she was holding. "What's all this?"

She pointed out several names on the top padd, and they fell into their normal, comfortable work mode. Several hours and more than a few glasses of wine later, Janeway almost had herself convinced that she liked the universe better this way.

* * *

Chakotay returned from the bathroom, finding himself just in time to watch Kathryn's head droop down to her chest. _Poor thing_, he thought. _I wonder what was on her mind today… she must've been distracted by something. _He sighed.

The padd she was holding began to slip from her fingers and he darted forward to catch it before it could wake her with the loud clatter it was sure to make if it was allowed to fall. She stirred briefly as it was taken from her hand, murmuring something vague and unintelligible. Careful not to make a sound, he gathered the other padds and set them on the coffee table, and then retrieved from his closet the nightdress she'd left with him a week ago after being called suddenly to the bridge in the wee hours of the morning. He laid it out on the side of the bed and returned to the living room.

She appeared to be fast asleep, but he knew he'd have to give her several minutes before he could transport her to the bed, where she'd be more comfortable, without her waking and disappearing back to her own room. Content to wait, he sat in the armchair and picked up one of the padds they hadn't gotten around to. It was nothing particularly unusual, just the warp core specs from Carey's analysis, but it had to be read and approved by someone, and that someone might as well be him than her.

When he finished it, he set it aside and evaluated Kathryn. She'd shifted—or fallen—to lie on her side, her legs still crossed and one foot still resting primly on the floor. It didn't look terribly comfortable. But he knew that if she stayed like that much longer, she'd be stiff for hours, and then they would all suffer the Horrible Wrath of the Irritated Commander.

So, he scooped her up off the couch and laid her down on the bed, glad when she hardly stirred. Quickly, with the ease of nearly six months of experience, he undressed her and slipped her into her nightgown, and then pulled the covers up over her. She smiled sleepily and murmured something, shifting to get more comfortable amongst the pillows.

He slipped away for a moment into the bathroom to brush his teeth, returned, changed into his sleepwear, and slid into the bed next to her. She responded immediately to the sudden weight that changed the angle of the mattress beneath her and rolled over, snuggling against him. He smiled and put an arm over her waist, catching a hint of the familiar scent of her hair.

"Sleep well," he wished her softly. She mumbled something that might possibly have been a reply and wrapped her arm around him, holding him so securely that he wouldn't have been surprised if she intended to never let him go.


End file.
